


A Gift

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Pre-Awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6734986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While visiting Orzammar after the Blight, Sereda has a gift for Zevran (maybe).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift

There's something strange about being back in Orzammar, a princess again but now a Paragon, too.  She hadn't wanted to come, but a grating letter from Bhelen reminded her that with the darkspawn returning to the Deep Roads, the people of Orzammar could use the hope that only a Paragon can bring.  

At least this time neither she nor Zevran are hiding their feelings from each other.  That means that he's staying in her room with her, and, more importantly, making her brother and the nobles delightfully uncomfortable.  

“You are incredible,” Sereda says, laughing as she pulls Zevran into her bedroom.  It’s been a long, long dinner and she’s eager to be alone with him.  “Have I told you that lately?”

Zevran leans down to kiss her, messy and open mouthed, before closing the door on the nobles tittering behind them.  “I must say, I do enjoy hearing it.”

“And I will say it over and over again,” Sereda says.  “Because you are amazing.”

Zevran pushes her gently over to the bed, crawling on top of her.  He presses his lips against her neck.

“I do always enjoy making love to you on a real bed,” Zevran murmurs.

“Wait,” Sereda says, biting back a moan.

Zevran pulls away.  “Yes, mi amor?”

Sereda cups his face, soaking in his beauty.  “I have a present for you.”  She knits her brows together.  “Maybe.”

Zevran sits up.  “You do not have to give me anything.”

Sereda kisses his cheek before scooting to the end of the bed and hopping to the floor.  “I know.  It might not even still be here.  In which case, you should forget I said anything.”

Her brother took her things out of her room, but then allegedly put everything back into place after she crowned him king.  She has her doubts.  

Sereda walks to her vanity table, opening a drawer.  Inside, she finds her jewelry box.  Honestly, she’s surprised when she lifts it up and feels that there are still things inside.  She carries it back to the bed.  

“What is this?” Zevran asks.

“This has some of the jewels that I had as a princess.  Unless Bhelen took them out,” Sereda says, opening it and beginning her search.  

“Ooh, did you have a crown?  You would look quite regal in a crown,” Zevran says.

“No, praise the Ancestors.  Crowns are for kings and queens, not princesses,”  Sereda scrunches her nose up.  “Ugh, I can’t imagine.  But I did have some tiaras.”

Sereda opens the box and pulls out her favorite tiara since it’s sitting right on top.  It was the simplest of the tiaras she owned, plain silverite with obsidian inlays.  She runs her thumb over the whorls of the design, remembering all the times she wore this to various dinners and state functions, from when she was a little girl to an adult.

With a smile, she sets it on Zevran’s head.  It looks much better on him than it ever looked on her, obsidian standing out against his blond hair.  She adjusts it so it sits perfectly.  

“That looks so good on you,” Sereda says, smiling.

Zevran preens a little, clearly enjoying the praise.  “Of course it does.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t give you jewels that are technically Orzammar’s or that have been passed down for, like, generations,” Sereda says wistfully.  “That tiara has been worn by Aeducan women for five hundred years.”

“I can see why,” Zevran says.  “The craftsmanship is impressive.”  

Sereda goes silent as she searches for her gift for Zevran.  As she comes across bangles or other jewelry she thinks he’d like, she slides them over to him.  She watches out of the corner of her eye as he admires them and puts them on.

Finally, she finds the ring and she holds it in her open palm.  The ring hums faintly, a song only dwarves hear.  The blue designs swirl around deep black stone.  The ring is encased in a thin clear gem, which both enhances the beauty and keeps the wearer safe from exposure to lyrium.  

“This was my mother’s.  It's the only thing I have of hers.  Most of her things went to Trian or Father, then Bhelen once they died since I was exiled,” Sereda says.  “I have very few memories of her, but she always wore this ring.”

“It is breathtaking,” Zevran says with appropriate reverence.  “Your mother had exquisite taste.”

“I wanted to retrieve it when we were here on Warden business, but I didn't get the chance,” Sereda says.  

Delicately, she grabs Zevran's wrist.  Feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse, she turns his hand palm up and sets the ring in his hand.  Her fingertips brush against the palm of his hand lightly.

“I want you to have it,” Sereda says softly.  

Zevran looks up at her in surprise.  “I can't accept something so precious.  It was your mother’s.”

“Zevran, I want you to have it,” Sereda repeats, closing his fingers around the ring.  “You’ve given me so much.”

“I…” Zevran looks frustrated for a brief second, like he can't find the right words, but he swallows and nods.  “I understand.  Thank you.”

His eyes linger where the earring he gave her hangs from a chain.  Since the Battle of Denerim, she hasn’t taken it off.  The cool, smooth metal comforts her and the weight reminds her of the man who gave it to her.  Keeping it in her pocket hadn’t been enough; she had wanted to have some part of him with her to the end.  

“She used to say that it was everything she hoped I would be,” Sereda says.  “Beautiful but dangerous underneath.” 

She's twisting the small bits of her mother she remembers, weaving them and what she’s been told into what she wishes her mother would have said.  Now, her mother is the only member of her family that Sereda can think of without tasting bitterness in her mouth; in some ways, her mother carries the whole weight of the love that Sereda used to have for her entire family on her long dead shoulders.

Zevran laughs softly, but he’s looking at her with an understanding; he knows she’s lying.  “Then she would certainly be proud.”

“Maybe,” Sereda murmurs.  

Truthfully, she knows that very few dwarves would approve of her choices.  Now that her caste has been restored, she should return to Orzammar.  In a few years, she could easily accumulate enough influence and power to overthrow her brother and take her birthright back from him.  

But she would have to give up too much: the sky, the feeling of rain sliding down her skin, the security of trusting the people she’s around.  Plus, she would have to marry a noble eventually, and she couldn’t do that to Zevran.  

The only reason why Bhelen doesn’t make sneering comments about his surfacer sister is because he knows it works out in his favor.  She can sense his disdain, though, and she can certainly imagine Trian’s.  If he wasn’t already dead, the shame (and the shame that she’s taken up with a man who is both an elf and a commoner) could very well kill him.

Zevran slides the ring onto his thumb.  It looks like it fits perfectly, which makes her smile wide.  Perfect.

“I think you are underdressed, my beautiful Warden,” Zevran says, jangling his bracelet covered wrists.

Sereda raises her eyebrow.  “I was about to say that you’re overdressed, wearing far too many clothes.”

Zevran grins at her, right in the way that makes her feel ridiculous inside.  “You are correct, of course.  We would both look better naked, but you could take your clothes off and put jewelry on.”

“It’s not fair.  You know I can’t say no when you look at me like that,” Sereda says, turning the jewelry box to face him with a loving sigh.  “You find the jewelry, though.”

The gleeful smile on Zevran’s face fills her with happiness, even though she’s never been much for dress up.  

“I do,” Zevran says.  “I am quite lucky that you find me irresistibly charming.”

The first thing Zevran does is undo the buttons on her shirt, brushing his fingers over her chest and stomach.  He parts her top and slides it down her arms with reverence, eyes raking over her body.  Every little touch makes her shiver.  

Her breast binding goes next, tossed to the side.  Sereda lets him tug her to her feet so he can dispose of her pants and smallclothes; she kicks off her boots and socks herself.  

“This seems very unfair,” Sereda says as she sits back down on the bed.  

She’s naked and he’s still fully clothed.  

“It is,” Zevran says, nodding.  “It is very difficult for me to concentrate on the jewelry when you are right there, naked and wanting.”

“There’s nothing stopping you from having sex with me right now,” Sereda says, stretching her legs out enticingly and poking him with her toe.  

Zevran runs a finger up Sereda’s foot, tickling her.  Both of their laughter rings out loud.  

“You are quite alluring,” Zevran says, “but I will not be dissuaded.”

“Your willpower has gotten so much stronger,” Sereda says, sighing and leaning against the bedpost.  

Zevran slides off the bed, armlet in hand, and stands beside her.  With the utmost care, he takes her wrist in hand, stretching out her arm so he can kiss her from her wrist up to her shoulder.  Once he reaches her shoulder, he slides the armlet into place.

Sereda looks down to see sapphires sparkling out of a silver band.  It’s certainly a beautiful piece.  

Zevran skims his fingers across her chest to secure a necklace around her neck.  The way he touches her back is highly unnecessary considering there’s no jewelry to put there, but Sereda certainly isn’t complaining.  

The more he touches her, the more sensitive she becomes.  When he starts kissing his way down her thigh to her ankle, it makes her breath come in short, shallow bursts.  She feels on fire, and everything in her wants Zevran to tear his clothes off and take her.  

“You are so beautiful,” Zevran murmurs when he’s done.

By force of habit, she adjusts the tiara- one more ornate than the one still sitting on Zevran’s head- so it rests perfectly.  

“You’re still wearing too many clothes,” Sereda says, tilting her head to the side to examine him critically.

Zevran takes her hand, pulling her to her feet.  He chuckles as her knees go weak and he has to help support her for a moment.  The jewelry jangles as she steadies herself.

“It is blatantly unfair that I am the only one admiring you,” Zevran says, “especially when you have a mirror right in your room.”

Before she can object, she’s standing in front of the mirror.  What strikes her first and deepest is the fact that even though she’s wearing an impressive amount of jewelry, not one Aeducan crest is adorning her body.  It’s an impressive feat, considering most of the jewelry in the box is covered with crests.  

That he made sure to avoid putting the symbol of the House that rejected her and that she rejected in turn makes her heart swell.  His love for her has always shined through in the little ways.

“You do know how to pick out jewelry, I must admit,” Sereda says.

“Making you look radiant is a simple task,” Zevran says, coming into view behind her.

Sereda leans back, quite disappointed that she’s leaning against cloth instead of skin.  “You know what’s actually blatantly unfair?  That you’re not naked.”

Zevran pulls away, quickly undoing the fastenings on his clothes and letting them fall to the floor.  “Better?”

“Much better,” Sereda says.

“I am glad you approve,” Zevran says, pressing against her back and setting his hands lightly on her shoulders.  

“Are you going to keep teasing me?” Sereda asks, looking up at him in the mirror.

“It certainly is enjoyable,” Zevran says, skimming his hands down her chest.  

“Uh huh,” Sereda says, stifling a moan.  She turns to face him and runs her fingers lightly along the sharp planes of his body before kneeling, grinning up at Zevran wickedly.  “I think it’s time to get a little revenge.”

Zevran tangles his fingers in her short hair, carefully avoiding the tiara.  “I am trembling in fear and anticipation.  And arousal.  Always arousal.”

Sereda presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh.  “You haven’t even started to tremble yet, my love.  Trust me.”  

“Oh, I do.  As I have said before, you are an awesome sex goddess,” Zevran says.

Sereda laughs and gets to work.

* * *

“Okay, I admit, I’m glad that I let you dress me up in ridiculous amounts of jewelry,” Sereda says in her post-sex haze.  

Her arms are wrapped around Zevran loosely and his head is resting on her chest.  There isn’t one part of her that doesn’t feel relaxed.  Even her head feels blurry in the best way.

Zevran tilts his face upwards, looking similarly blissed out.  “I would expect so, after a night like this.”

Sereda laughs as she runs her fingers through his soft hair.  The tiara fell off at some point during their sex, so there’s currently nothing adorning his head except a wide smile.  She did have an awful lot of orgasms.  “There was just something about the extra weight and the noise.  I don’t know.  Sometimes something a little different is good.”

Zevran’s eyebrows raise.  “None of your other lovers enjoyed the finer things in life?”

Sereda laughs and shakes her head.  “Like I’d let any of them into my jewelry box.  Or let them dress me up in any way.  I couldn’t let them get any delusions of grandeur.”

“You have no worries about my own impeccable humility,” Zevran says.

“Because you are already as grand as a person could be,” Sereda murmurs, “and I love you for it.”

Zevran smiles and takes her hand.  Her ring presses against her skin, singing a soft, sweet song to her.  The song could never be as sweet as the sound of Zevran breathing beside her.  

“As I love you, Sereda,” Zevran says softly.

The future terrifies Sereda- rebuilding an order is no small task, and she knows that Zevran will leave to take care of the Antivan Crows- but she’s filled with a sense of calm.  No matter what happens and how far apart duty takes them, she knows somewhere deep inside that they’ll always find their way back to each other.  There could be no more comforting belief.


End file.
